Whispers
by the ticking clock
Summary: A nighttime conversation can provoke memories and lead to whispers of hostility...Aragorn and Boromier have never seen eye to eye, and all Aragorn can see when he looks at the man is a child. Legolas does not help matters. one-shot


The night was a quiet one, but Aragorn was not resting.

He sat with his knees drawn up, sword resting by his side, hands toying restlessly with a fraying scrap of cloth from his tunic.

The hobbits were asleep, their breathing steady and soft. They looked so small, wrapped as they were in layers of blankets, with Gandalf resting beside them. Aragorn could not tell if the wizard was actually asleep, but his old friend was not going to be offering him any advice tonight, he was certain.

Boromier was supposed to be asleep, but Aragorn knew he wasn't. He kept a careful eye on the other man, but Boromier did not appear to be threatening. He simply sat with his head resting against a tree, eyes closed.

Gimli's snores had softened to obnoxiously loud breathing, and the dwarf was deep in his own dreams, tossing a little in his sleep, hand tight on his axe.

The only member in their fellowship missing was Legolas, and Aragorn knew his friend would not be asleep. He was not sure where the elf was, exactly, but he would be lingering close by, in the trees or the high rocks, a place where he could see the stars, and be alone.

"You seem troubled."

Aragorn did not jump at the unexpected voice, but he felt his hands curl instinctively towards his sword, fingers tightening around the hilt of the weapon. "Boromier, you should be asleep."

The other man scoffed and rose to his feet to sit beside Aragorn. In the silver light of the moon, he looked younger, more like the little boy Aragorn remembered him to be. "I can find no rest here. Neither, it seems, can you."

Aragorn looked away from him, staring out into the blackness of the forest. "Rest never comes easily these days."

Boromier looked at him keenly, his gaze curious, posture indicating that he was curious, and Aragorn suppressed a sigh. He did not know how many more questions he could take-surely the hobbits had asked all of them...

"You've seen me before, have you not?" Boromier's voice was quiet.

That was not what he had expected, but he answered anyway, half turning so he was facing the other man while not being blind to the forest stretched out in front of them. "Yes. Long ago."

"I do not remember." Boromier laughed, but there was no real humor behind the gesture, only an awkward need to bridge the gap between them.

Recognizing that Boromier was trying to reach out to him, Aragorn played along, answering the other man's unspoken question. "You were very young. Perhaps ten or twelve. We met only briefly. You nearly ran right under my horses's hooves."

"Did you meet my brother?" Now there was an odd catch in Boromier's voice, and despite himself Aragorn was intrigued by it.

"Not then. But yes, I have met Faramier." Aragorn glanced sideways at his companion. "You fear for him." He did not make the phrase a question.

Boromier sighed. "I fear for him. But I also miss him." His lips curled into a half-smile as he glanced down at his hands, as if to hide his emotion. "Faramier was always a dreamer-he still is. He's always wanted to see elves..."

Compelled to reach out to this man, to connect with this lost kinsman, to show him that he was more than just a Ranger, Aragorn found himself saying, "I was a dreamer, much like your brother. Although my dreams were not of finding elves."

Boromier raised his eyebrows, surprised that he had received an open response. "You? A dreamer invested in books and not swordplay?"

Now it was Aragorn's turn to smile. "I was a little dreamer, when I was young. I was still interested in swordplay, but Elrond had to remind me several times a day to focus."

Boromier laughed, and this time it was not awkward. "I cannot picture it."

Tossing aside the cloth he had been twisting around in his hands, Aragorn shrugged. "It was a long time ago."

"How long have you known the elf?" Boromier asked, and now there was an edge to his voice that masked his open curiosity. Was he jealous? Afraid?

Aragorn tensed, and did not look at him. "Many years." Before the other man could speak again, he said, "Get some rest, Boromier."

Boromier hesitated, before he dipped his head and stood. "As you wish."

Aragorn waited until he heard the deep, steady breaths that indicated that the man had fallen asleep before he said, quietly. "You can come out now, Las."

Legolas dropped quite suddenly from the trees, landing on silent feet and slinked over to Aragorn, crouching beside him. He said nothing, only stared in the same direction as his companion, face hardened and cooled by moonlight, highlighting his tipped ears and sharp features that portrayed his heritage.

"You do not trust him." Aragorn said, after a time.

"Nor do you." The elf answered. They spoke in Elvish, but Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to ensure that Boromier was truly asleep anyway.

"I wish I could," He said softly. "I see good in him."

"I see an overeager child who is to quick to action," Legolas said, curtly, and Aragorn laughed.

"Come now, Las."

Legolas turned his light eyes on him, silencing him with his stare. "I am not jesting. Be careful around him. He is more childish than those hobbits."

Aragorn nodded. He had learned to trust his friends instincts over the years. "I will."

Legolas returned the nod and stood, clapping him on the shoulder. "Get some rest, Estel. I will take the next watch."

Aragorn stood and shot him an annoyed look, sheathing his sword. "I am not a child."

"Yes," the elf said, and settled down in his friend's place, tracing the smooth wood of his bow with absent fingers, "you are." He tilted his head back, smiling a little. "Now, go. Sleep. I will keep watch."

Aragorn stepped around his friend and returned to his bedroll, noticing, but not acknowledging, Boromier's bright eyes fixed on him in the dark.


End file.
